A Cold Wind will blow through your Door
by falafel-fiction
Summary: Claire is living in Otherville and coming to terms with Charlie's death when she recieves a visit from Desmond and some news that shatters her newfound peace. Includes the return of goth!Claire.


**A Cold Wind will blow through your Door**

**Summary:** Claire is living in Otherville and coming to terms with Charlie's death when she recieves a visit from Desmond and some news that shatters her newfound peace. Includes the return of goth!Claire. 

**Characters:** Claire, Desmond and Charlie.

**Rating: **R for sexual content and distressing themes.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Lost (phew!)

**Spoilers**: S4 up to episode 4.

**Authors Notes:** I wrote a rough version of this story a month ago with plans to post it after 'Eggtown'. I thought it was going to slip neatly into canon but it turned out to be rather AU considering that in this story Charlie's death causes Claire to feel...depressed!! Shocker, right? Anyway, I've tried to account for Claire's inexplicable lack of mourning in my edit (man, it wasn't easy).

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Claire stared numbly into the mirror, her fingers raking through the long black tangles of her hair. She had found the box of dye in the bathroom cabinet and immediately drenched her sunny yellow locks in its ugly bluish darkness. She hadn't had black hair since she was a teenager. Now she felt like she was returning to those sullen days of her adolescence; those tender years of guilt and mourning after she put her mother into an irrecoverable sleep.

Claire needed her black hair to hide behind now. She had found a dark sweater and a pair of navy blue jeans to match. She was turning herself into a shadow; a shadow that she could sweep her pain beneath and then crush it underfoot. She didn't wear make up anymore. There was no need. Her eyes had darkened all by themselves. Her restless nights, sobbing hard into her pillow, had left swollen purple circles around them like bruises. Her eyes had once been a luminous sky blue. Now they had faded to a dreary ocean grey and the ocean filled the mind behind her eyes…just as it had filled an underwater room and drowned her heart.

Claire turned away from the mirror and wandered aimlessly around the silent house. Kate was out for the night, spending her time with Sawyer no doubt. Or was it Jack's turn to receive this evening? Claire snorted a bitter laugh and folded her arms over her chest, her nails biting into the skin of her upper arms. Every day she had to pretend not to loathe Kate for having two men while she had lost two men and Aaron had lost two fathers. In her wretched daydreams Claire imagined Kate taking her son away from her too. Her baby was the last thing she had to lose. There was a time when she had sworn to her child that they would always be together. Now she had no faith that she would be allowed to hold onto anything she cared for. Claire was conditioned to having them all ripped away from her.

She turned down the corridor and strayed into Aaron's room. The baby lay awake in his crib. She thought that he might have been asleep by now, but his eyes were wide and expectant as if he were waiting for something. Or someone. Claire remembered how his chubby face used to break into little smiles and giggles when Charlie had bent over to pick him up. Aaron wouldn't smile for his mummy anymore. He just stared at her blankly, sometimes accusingly she thought. Well, at least he wasn't crying tonight. Claire switched out the lights, leaving her child in darkness. Then she crossed the hallway and stepped into her own room.

She flopped down on the unmade bed, closed her eyes and thought back over the events that had brought her to this place.

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The day that had followed Charlie's death she had been hollow and vacant, allowing herself to be dragged around the jungle with Hurley and Locke insisting that they had to listen to Charlie's warning or else he would have died for nothing. And yes, Claire wanted to make Charlie's death meaningful. She wanted to listen to him. She needed to believe that his final message would save them.

On the second day they reached the Barracks; a little clustered village of perfect homes and simple serenity. Claire decided that everything would fine here. It was just like Charlie had promised. Claire was determined to show everyone that she and Aaron were fine. She washed her clothes, tidied her new house and sat on the porch sipping warm refreshing drinks. She smiled at everyone who stopped by to visit. Sometimes she pretended that they weren't on the island any more. Sometimes she imagined that they had been rescued and they were now living as neighbours in the cosiest little suburb you could imagine.

_This is what Charlie would have wanted_, Claire told herself. _He said he would protect me and Aaron and that is what he did. He protected us with his warning about those people on the boat. He saved us from them. _Claire reminded herself of this every day and she didn't cry. She had promised Charlie she wouldn't worry about him while he was gone. That was the one thing he had asked of her. Claire was determined to keep her promise. She owed him that much. She wouldn't worry over Charlie while he was away, even if he was never coming back.

Then yesterday morning Desmond had come to her door.

"You're looking well, Claire," he remarked.

Claire caught the hint of scorn in his voice. Desmond himself was looking wretched and haggard like he hadn't slept for a week. She scowled at him; hating him for the misery that he came to breathe into her life.

"I don't want to talk to you," she hissed. "I don't want to hear anything more from you. I'm on my own here and that's fine. He protected us and we're safe now. Everything is fine so you just stay away from me, okay? I'm not going be upset over this anymore. I'm listening to Charlie. I'm staying away from those people and I'm taking care of Aaron. I'm doing what he wanted!"

Desmond regarded her coldly, shaking his head in derision.

"You have no _bloody_ idea what he wanted…"

That was when Desmond took the note from his pocket and placed it in her shrinking palm. The paper was thin and frail, its message dissolved to an unreadable blur. Her hand trembled, fearing it would crumble and slip through her fingers like sand.

"What…what _is_ this?" she asked, haltingly.

"His memories," Desmond explained, solemnly. "The best moments of his life, he said. They were all he had to give to you…"

With the ghost of a smile, Desmond added that Charlie had referred to the little list of memories as his 'Greatest Hits'. There was a time when Claire would have found this amusing too. Now it just made her heartsick.

"We need to talk, sister," Desmond told her, his voice softening.

Claire nodded reluctantly. They sat down together on the porch steps. That was when she had steeled herself and asked Desmond to tell her what had happened. She knew that Charlie wouldn't want her to hear it, but he was no longer here to shield her from the truth. He couldn't protect her anymore.

Desmond had started by confessing that he had seen Charlie drowning in one of his visions. Claire closed her eyes and bit down hard on her lower lip. All this time she had thought of Desmond as Charlie's protector and now she learned that he had purposefully led him to his death. Claire would have slapped the man, if he hadn't looked so beaten already. Then he said his vision of Charlie's drowning had been followed by a vision of her and Aaron stepping onto a helicopter. After hearing that Claire didn't need Desmond to tell her of the choice Charlie had made…if you could even call if a choice. Charlie had no hope for his own salvation, but he had accepted his fate in the hope that he might save her.

Desmond said that he had offered to take his place, but Charlie had knocked him out cold with a paddle and swam down to the station, only to be captured by two of their enemies who were guarding the jamming equipment. Claire hadn't been prepared for that part. Her heart clenched like a fist.

"Did…did they hurt him?" she asked, her voice wavering.

Desmond hesitated, but it seemed he knew better than to lie to her now.

"Aye," he answered, tonelessly. "They did."

Claire just wanted Desmond to come to the end of his tale now. She wanted to find something in this terrible story that would offer her cold comfort. Desmond told her that it was the man with the eye-patch who had blown open the porthole window. It had been no accident then. Charlie had been murdered. They had _murdered_ him. But what hurt the most was learning that Charlie had submitted to it. Desmond told her he had shut the door on himself. He had locked himself inside that flooding room. Claire shuddered, feeling that she might be sick.

"You shouldn't have told him about the helicopter," she told Desmond faintly. "If you hadn't told him then he wouldn't have…"

"I know," he answered; his voice an empty shell.

Claire didn't need to say anymore. She could have screamed at Desmond; she could have pounded her fists against his chest and he wouldn't have fought back. But Claire could tell by the hollow look in his eyes that he was punishing himself for this error of judgement and would do so for years to come.

"Goodbye Desmond…" she muttered, rising to her feet.

"The helicopter's waiting at the beach, Claire," he told her, standing at the same time. "That's why I came here. You and your baby have to get on that helicopter. You have to leave this island. I promised him you would…"

Desmond reached out to grasp her hand. It seemed like he would drag her to the beach if that was what it took. Claire recoiled, shaking her head.

"No! I won't go!" she shrieked. "Stay away from me!"

Desmond narrowed his eyes, his stare becoming thunderous.

"What? Are you gonna let his sacrifice be for nothing?!" He seethed with frustration. "He loved you, Claire. He loved your child. And even if you didn't love him in return you could at least have the decency to…"

"Shut up!" Claire screamed at him, covering her ears like a hysterical child. "I don't want to hear it! I don't trust those people on the boat! I don't trust _you_ and I don't believe in your stupid bloody visions! Get on the helicopter yourself, Desmond. Get back to your precious little girlfriend and don't even pretend that she isn't the real reason you sent Charlie to his death!"

Claire slammed the door on Desmond then. She made sure that she locked it securely; locking it just as Charlie had done when he shut the door on Desmond and the world. Then she had fled along the corridor, half blind with rage, and thrown herself down on her mattress. That was when Claire had cried the tears she had been holding back all week…the tears she had sworn she would never cry…because she had promised Charlie she wouldn't worry about him.

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Claire didn't know if she was dreaming or awake.

Ever since Desmond's visit she had been lost in a nightmare that she couldn't escape from. She could see Charlie roped to the chair. She watched helplessly as he was beaten and taunted. She witnessed his slow execution in a chamber of metal walls, cold water and blinking yellow lights.

This was what had happened to him. This was what they had done to her Charlie. This had been the end of the funny boy who had played guitar in her tent, who had pulled silly faces to make her baby laugh and had made her picnics on the beach. It had been her fault these things had happened to him. Claire knew that now. He had loved her and she had been the death of him.

Claire gasped and lifted her head from the bed clothes.

She thought she had heard something; a shuffling in the corridor, footsteps on the floor. Aaron was making a strange wailing noise in the other room. The baby didn't sound distressed, more like he was trying to alert her to something; a presence that had entered their home like a cold wind. _Desmond_, she thought. The bloody Scotsman must have broken in with the intention of forcing her to play out those little visions in his head. She couldn't stand anymore of this.

Claire bunched her fists, marched into the corridor and…

…and Charlie was just standing there.

Claire froze. He couldn't be real. She had heard about the apparitions of people who were dead or missing appearing in the jungle. Kate believed these visions were made of black smoke and were used to manipulate them. But whether Claire was dreaming or awake somehow she _knew_ that Charlie was real. She could tell he was real by the smell of him; the harsh mingling smell of dry blood and saltwater that hung on his ragged t-shirt. And even if it hadn't been for his stinking clothes then Claire would have known it was Charlie. She would have known by the sheepish expression on his face.

"Where…where have you been?" Claire stammered.

Charlie offered her a wincing smile, shifting uncomfortably, looking like he always did when he had done something to upset her.

"I…I told you not to worry, Claire…"

She felt like she might explode. "You said that you would be careful! Tell me Charlie, is shutting yourself inside a flooding room your idea of being careful? I guess neither of us can keep our promises..."

"I came back, Claire," he protested, closing the distance between them. "I'm here. I told you I would be fine, didn't I?"

"_No_! No Charlie. Don't tell me you're fine! Hurley kept on telling me you would be fine and then he came and told me you were dead! I'm trying to stop worrying and hurting over you here. Maybe if you go away I can try again. But you can't come back now, Charlie. You can't pretend it's fine!"

Claire turned away from him and stormed back into her bedroom. Charlie followed her like a whipped but fiercely loyal dog. She stared into the mirror again, meeting his eyes in the reflection over her shoulder.

"I waited for you to come back, Charlie. Aaron was crying and I knew that something was wrong, but I still waited. Even after they told me you had drowned, there was part of me that kept on waiting. I wanted you back, Charlie. I needed you. But you weren't coming back and the waiting only made it harder. So I stopped waiting, Charlie. I stopped hoping. Why…_why_ didn't you come to me sooner? Why did you have to come back now…after I gave up on you?!"

"You never gave up," Charlie whispered, knowingly.

"I _did_, Charlie! I had to. There was nothing to do. They say you died for our rescue, but then you changed your mind and left us with a message that our rescuers weren't who they said they were. What am I supposed to do? If I get on the helicopter then I am ignoring your warnings. If I don't get on the bloody helicopter then I am making your sacrifice meaningless. I don't understand what your death _means_, Charlie! So I chose to stay here. I've been taking care of Aaron and pottering around this little house and I just..."

Charlie flushed, his face tightening, like she had hurt his feelings. Claire felt a sudden rush of remorse. She wanted to throw her arms around him, tell him she was sorry, beg for his forgiveness…beg him to stay…

Then Claire realised how foolish she was being.

"This isn't real," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "You're not here."

"I _am_ here," he said sharply. "Claire…this is part of a bargain. It's because of the sacrifice I made to the island; my life so all of you could be rescued. The island values sacrifice, Claire. But it's not the time for your rescue yet. There are things that have to happen first. The island has brought me back, because there's still work to be done. That's what I'm doing, Claire…until it's time."

"So what happens when it _is_ time for our rescue?" she asked, frowning at him.

Charlie shrugged. "I guess…we go back to our bargain."

Claire shook her head in dismay. "Then I don't _want_ to be rescued!" she snapped, rebelliously. "Not if your life is the cost. Do you think I could live with myself? Do you think, given the choice, that I would…"

"Maybe you don't _have_ a choice," Charlie said dejectedly. "Maybe we just…don't have any real choices at all..."

Claire fell silent. For the first time she was really listening to Charlie and now that she listened she understood the meaning of his death. No choices. No freedom. Suddenly she realised the oppressive power of fate that had driven Charlie to swim down to that underwater station; the place of his sacrifice. Claire didn't want to admit to the cruel futility that had brought him to this end. Because she loved this man. She wanted to love him. She wanted to love Charlie without being hurt, but…then she remembered something brave and encouraging that Charlie had once said to her. _It's time to stop feeling sorry for yourself and seize the day...and I can't think of anyone I'd rather do any day seizing with than you... _

Claire stepped forwards, placing her hands on his bunched shoulders.

"There are still ways we can choose, Charlie."

She leaned close and kissed him. She found his lips were salty, swollen and cracked. The lips of a drowned man. She breathed heavily into the kiss, wishing to revive him. Her intensity caused Charlie to buckle. He was overwhelmed. Claire realised that he was only used to receiving the merest crumbs of her affection. Now her feelings were pouring out in a rush. It was too much for him.

She helped him to sit down on the bed and gently eased his T-shirt over his head. Charlie folded his arms over his bruised chest as if worrying that his body was too pale and thin to impress her. Even now he felt insecure and unworthy of her. At the same time Claire was fiddling with her hair, wondering if he thought she looked ugly with it black or if he would think her breasts were too small. Claire banished these petty thoughts from her mind. None of it mattered now.

She took a deep breath and began to lift up her sweater. Claire had not done this with a man since the night that Aaron was conceived. Part of her had feared that she would never trust a man enough to do this again. And Charlie had caused her more pain than Thomas – even though the hurt he inflicted was always unintentional and apologetic. Claire knew that she might be bearing her heart to more cracks and bruising. But for once she wanted to be the brave one.

Soon her sweater, her jeans, her bra and underwear were all piled in a heap on the floor. Claire was standing naked before him. Charlie's love for her had always been naked, of course. A shameless vulnerable love that he had bared to her from the very beginning. Often she had abused that love, teasing it and shunning it, while keeping her own feelings safely concealed. Claire regretted that it had taken her this long to expose her love and strip down her defences.

This was her sacrifice. Claire was placing her heart on the altar. The island could choose to bring down its knife or it could relent, sparing them both. Claire knew the island would almost certainly choose to be merciless, keeping its claim on Charlie's life and condemning her to loneliness. But she was prepared to take this leap of faith in the desperate hope that she might save him.

Charlie insisted they use protection and Claire had not objected. She knew Charlie would never enjoy it unless he felt he was protecting her. Claire eased herself on top of him in slow tender movements. Charlie hissed through his teeth, his body taunt as a coiled spring. For a moment Claire feared she was hurting him. She asked him if he wanted her to stop, but Charlie only smiled and shyly whispered 'No'. His skin was so warm beneath her hands. She couldn't imagine it turning cold. _We're all going to die some day_, Claire reasoned. _But before that day comes there are still choices we can make…there are still ways we can live…_

When it was over they lay snuggling under the blankets, staring into each others faces and breathing against each others lips. The tickle of Charlie's breath was sweeter than any kiss. His breath was a miracle.

Claire wasn't sure how long they held each others stare, but Charlie was the first to break it. He looked to the ceiling, his eyes flickering closed. Claire wanted to pinch him. She wanted to shake him and tell him not to fall asleep when she was trying to cherish their time together. She lifted her hand to tap his cheek and then…then she relented. She could see that Charlie was tired. He was so weary in his soul. As much as he loved her, he needed his rest…

Claire placed her head on his chest, her ear pressing close to his heart. She could feel it fluttering wildly inside his ribcage. It sounded like the wings of a trapped bird that was longing for release. It would pain her to do so, but Claire understood now that she was the only one who could set him free.

"I love you…" she whispered to him.

With these words, the chest ceased its rising.

Claire shivered and blinked her eyes. She found that the morning sun was streaming in through her curtains and her head was resting upon her pillow. Only the smell and the emotions of the night still lingered...

Charlie had disappeared without a trace.

_The End_


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